


Taybur Recognizes when Royalty Needs a Break

by AngeNoir



Series: Yuletide 2013 Gifts [3]
Category: PIERCE Tamora - Works, Tricksters - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 20:24:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1098234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeNoir/pseuds/AngeNoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>- or, alternatively known as, Dovasary needs to learn that it's fine to be human sometimes.</p><p>The pressure of being a queen isn't easy on anyone, let alone a newly-turned fifteen year old girl approaching the anniversary of her ascension to the throne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taybur Recognizes when Royalty Needs a Break

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seawench](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seawench/gifts).



Her Majesty Dovasary Haiming Temaida Balitang celebrated her fifteenth birthday in an elaborate procession throughout the Copper Isles, surrounded by her ladies in waiting, the Queen’s Guard, her family members, and various lesser nobles. It was paid for in part by the Crown, in part by the nobles whose lands she visited on progress. On each major island, she set aside days to hear complaints from the population. She discussed with the nobles the economy, where they were squeezed and where they could stand to make concessions. She held court for all the young men, danced until her feet felt like they would fall off. It was the first major procession since her ascension to the throne ten months prior and it took three months to complete.

Three months, of fussing, of keeping her tongue and trying to deal with stubborn luarin who didn’t see why they couldn’t just levy more taxes from the raka rabble, and trying to deal with raka headmen and headwomen who couldn’t believe that the luarin nobles weren’t cheating their people out of decent wages. Complicated negotiations and mediations, places where she failed and places where she succeeded, forever locked into the beautiful, hand-embroidered gowns that could have fed the raka for weeks if not months but without them she would have been dismissed and ignored by the nobles. Forever locked into her calm, level-headed persona, even when luarin and raka both wondered at her close ties to Tortall, the possibility – never outright stated, only ever implied in the softest language – that she was no more than a puppet of Tortall, in place because Tortall was tired of dealing with Copper Isles pirates and slave trade. She had to make assurances that she would not be giving preferential treatment to Tortall merchants in one breath, and then reassurances that she would not cut them off from Tortall’s goods or raise taxes on imported luxuries in the next. She was ready to scream.

And she had had no less than two separate attempts on her life, and one case of poisoning.

She was fifteen and three months, coming up on the anniversary of her ascension where there would be yet _another_ gala or some such thing that would be difficult to juggle with the treasury but necessary to mark, one that would require her not to deal with her _own_ nobles but foreign dignitaries and diplomats. For the most part, the delegations from Tortall and Carthak, due to her ties, wouldn’t be looking for weaknesses, wouldn’t be foisting young men her age at her, but they’d still subtly bring up minor sons of their realms and, really, she didn’t want to deal with that. Not now, not when she was ready to go mad from all the ceremony and pomp.

Sometimes, she hated Sarai fiercely for leaving her with this. Sarai, who was beautiful and stately, every inch a queen, and who had abandoned Dove here. Who had run off at the first opportunity and yes, she was in love with Zaimid and yes, she had a son now, and Aly and the other members of Dove’s household pointed out how her cool head and knack for logistics kept the realm running smoothly, but she didn’t _care_.

“Up you go, your Majesty!”

Dove tried not to groan into the pillows and debated the ramifications of claiming an illness. They’d bring healers to her, try and tempt her with treats from the kitchen. Rumors of her illness would spread because if there was one thing Dove knew about people, it was that people loved to gossip. While she didn’t have the large amount of unrest she _could_ have, the assassination and poisoning attempts showed that someone out there would try to capitalize on the illness.

And part of her hated the fact she needed to think of these excuses before trying to come up with a reason to have a day just for herself.

With a sigh, she sat up and tried not to glare at her maid. It wasn’t her fault that Dove was out of sorts this morning, after all.

The maid chattered on happily as she helped Dove out of her sleeping attire and into the bath, babbled on while helping Dove dress, and continued nattering until Dove knew her smile was strained. Heading down for breakfast at the table didn’t help, because Aly was there, Ulasu in her arms, as was Nawat with Ochubai and Junim, handing over reports and discussing security measures in regards to the upcoming anniversary – some dignitaries were already on their way to the Copper Isles. Dove discussed risks and potential trouble spots with Aly and then Nawat had some concerns about his human flock, and their position among the Queen’s Guard. Around them, the servants gossiped as they went about their work, and when Aly and Nawat left, Dove began to draft together the loan agreement necessary to buy food for their stores, and she was thoroughly sick of it all.

Around lunchtime, with her head pounding and feeling as if her stomach was trying to collapse against her spine regardless of the tray of sweets at her elbow as she worked, Taybur walked into the hall with a sheaf of reports. He took one look at her and frowned.

Her ladies-in-waiting tittered and flirted, even her more sensible ones. She mustered up what she could for a welcoming smile and shifted the paperwork around on her lap desk to make room for the reports he was holding.

“My pardons, your Majesty, but I would like to discuss these with you. In my offices, perhaps, with just one or two of your lovely ladies present, of course.”

The request was odd. Taybur, though having a head for the spy games Aly played, never had any real information of such a sensitive nature that it required privacy in order to reveal it. Beyond that, he hadn’t requested total privacy, what with his mention of having one or two of her ladies-in-waiting present.

“Your office?” she repeated, lifting an eyebrow and trying not to show her annoyance. She had enough to deal with and this peculiarity wasn’t something she was willing or happy to deal with right now.

He nodded.

She looked at her ladies-in-waiting and servants before sighing and pushing the lap desk back. Immediately, two servants were there, lifting and removing the wooden desk and placing it on the larger desk she sat at for royal functions. She tried not to grit her teeth and snarl at them that she could handle it. Becoming queen didn’t somehow make her incapable of doing basic tasks.

“Your Majesty?”

Taybur’s voice dragged her back and she tried not to bare her teeth at him. Instead, she rose as gracefully as she could – not as graceful or as lovely as Sarai could, and she spared another moment to uncharitably hate her sister for saddling her with this, for leaving her the only option for the rebellion and for the crown – and followed Taybur out of her bower and into the halls of the palace.

“I hear that the kitchen has managed to get ahold of some banana leaves, and they’ll be making coconut-curry with fish. Aly’s been having a bit of a rough week with Junim teething as he is, so they’re trying out sweet dishes for her temper and for the little lad,” Taybur commented.

She did her best to lend an ear, even though he talked about things that really didn’t matter if one thought about the reports in his hand that needed his office in order to speak of them. Dove barely noticed as he wandered from the topic of dinner to the idea of the weather getting better, the monsoon season on its way out the door. Holding the door open for her and the two ladies-in-waiting – Inge and Susanti – he motioned for the two young noblewomen to the low couch underneath the window and pulled out the large armchair next to his bookcases for Dove herself.

She looked at the chair, and then the chair in front of his working desk. “Taybur, what—”

“Please,” he said, a faint smile curving his lips. “You think I can’t notice when royalty gets tired and needs a break?”

Anger and indignation shot through her like fire, even as her two ladies-in-waiting gaped at Taybur. “Are you implying,” she said in an icy voice, “that you must look after me as if I was—”

But she stopped, because the sadness and grief that passed over his face was real.

After a moment, Taybur cleared his throat and looked at the small table, where she just noticed a chessboard sat, ornate pieces sitting midgame. “All royalty need breaks, your Majesty,” he said gravely. “Whether they are toddlers or adults, there are some times that royalty simply needs a day to relax. Aly – though very wise in political intrigue – never directly knew her king and queen, and Nawat has no concept of human customs. Anyone else, you would brush off, because you fear being seen as weak.”

He lifted his head and met her gaze frankly. “You fear acting your age and relaxing, and while I certainly am not going to argue for a wasteful or childish queen, I would like to know that someone near her knows when the crown gets too heavy, and will give my queen time to take it off in private.”

She stood there, staring up at him, for a long moment. Then, she carefully took the crown off her head and gently placed it upon the desk in the center of the room.

Of her two ladies-in-waiting, it was Susanti who stood and removed her gaily covered scarf, slipping it underneath the crown. “So it doesn’t get scratched, your Majesty,” she murmured.

Dove’s smile was a little more real, and a little warmer, even as Taybur pulled the chair from behind his desk and dragged it over to the chessboard, resetting the game.

And, for the afternoon, Dove could forget Dovasary Haiming Temaida Balitang, and just be Dove.


End file.
